


Barely Holding On

by writingcreature



Series: The-Aftermath-Series [6]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Banter, Best Friends, Developing Relationship, Episode Fix-it, Episode Related, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 17:07:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13322661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingcreature/pseuds/writingcreature
Summary: Yes, episode 8.12 might have been great, but it could've had been better with Danny in it. For me, it felt like I've been watching a different show. A show where Danny Williams was nonexisting. Maybe it was just me. However, I felt compelled to come up with an additional scene. After Adam left, Steve felt the urge to pay a visit to Danny who was still on sick leave.





	Barely Holding On

Danny dragged himself to his feet on the third nervous ring of the doorbell. He'd spent most of the day on the couch. Over the past few days, he'd overdone it, and his wound had gotten infected and caused him some serious trouble. 

"I'm coming! Whoever is out there I hope you have a good reason to keep me from dying of boredom," he hollered out. 

He opened the door, a crack and peered out. 

Steve waved at him briefly, "Hi Danny; it's just me. Can I come in?" 

Surprised to see his partner, he opened the door wide enough to let him pass through and flashed him a smile. 

"Awesome, you remembered I have a doorbell," he stated dryly but got no response. 

Danny's Super!SEAL radar started pinging like crazy. After what he'd seen on the news earlier and the fact that he'd called Steve a hundred times and none of these calls had been returned, he'd been worried. Now, with his partner showing up at his doorstep around that time of the night, he felt acknowledged. 

They went into the living room. 

"Please, have a seat. You look like you could use a beer or…something stronger?" Danny didn't know what to think about Steve's odd behavior. 

"Thank you, Danno. A beer would do it." He put the blanket aside before he flopped onto the couch. 

"How are you doing? Hope your day was better than mine," Steve said while looking around in the living room. "I thought Charlie would be here." 

Danny returned with two Longboards in his hands and put one in Steve's hand before he took a seat next to him. 

They clinked bottles and took a swig. Danny wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Well, Rachel did some rescheduling. What should I say?" He shrugged and grimaced immediately. 

"Are you okay, buddy?" Steve asked, worried, and put the bottle on the coffee table. 

Danny scrunched his face. "Ask me in a few minutes when the pain subsides. I should avoid certain movements. Shrugging is one of them. Best would be to sit still. As you know, that is not my kind of thing though I almost dozed off before you rang the bell." 

"Sorry, Danny, I can go if you…" 

"No, no, no. Please stay." Danny gave him a lopsided grin. "I am glad you're here. You're definitely the highlight of another wasted day on the couch. From what I saw on TV earlier today, you guys could've needed all the backup you could get. I was about to gear up." To proof he was not lying, Danny pointed his head in the direction of the kitchen counter where his vest and his service weapon were still lying. "I'm sorry, I wasn't there today." 

"I know," Steve replied hoarsely while he was staring blankly at some imaginary point on the table. 

After minutes of awkward silence, Danny nudged Steve's upper arm gently and said, "You know, we can talk about it." 

Steve didn't respond, but his face spoke volumes. Danny could see that his best friend was on an emotional rollercoaster of the worst kind. Steve desperately fought to keep the tears that were about to fall at bay. The picture of the three dead bodies in the morgue and the little girls' badly damaged stuffed animal were indelibly etched in his brain. 

"Noelani said the little girl was still holding it in her hands when they brought her in," Steve muttered. 

It took Danny a moment to figure out what Steve had said, but it still didn't make sense, and so he asked softly, "What was she holding in her hand?" 

"You know one of those fluffy rabbits you once bought for Grace when she was staying overnight in your house and forgot hers at Rachel's." Steve used his hands to describe the size, "It was barely recognizable." He finally breathed in a heavy sob, and a single tear ran down his cheek. 

Danny put his hand on his friend's shoulder, "Listen, there was nothing you could do to prevent that. It seems the guys we are currently dealing with are unpredictable. They follow no pattern and don't fit into any scheme. As soon as we get more background info, I'm sure we get a hold of them and will be able to defeat their plans, whatever they might be." 

Steve slightly shook his head, "Most of the day it felt like chasing ghosts. We raided every damned hide-out, made numerous arrests and came up empty. And at the end of the day, we were holding nothing than a bunch of loose ends in our hands. Many people lost their lives today, too many. And I can't get rid of the feeling that the death toll will be raising. Whoever is behind all this is a sociopath of the worst kind. He doesn't give a damn about who he is killing. He has no respect for life in general." 

Danny inhaled sharply, "If I didn't know it better, I'd say you talk about Gabriel. We never learned about his endgame. But, I think it was pretty close to what we are experiencing right now." 

Danny's words stirred Steve from his lethargy, "You mean the guy faked his death? No way. Chin would've known about it. Gabriel died in the hospital." 

"I guess when I have a chit chat with dear Jerry, we will end up in a lively discussion about conspirational theories. Gabriel had enough money to buy himself some influence. Blackmailing could've been another option." 

Steve scrunched his face, "Time you get back on the job. You seemed to have too much time on your hands. Never heard you talk like that before." 

"To my excuse, I have to say I also never experienced death before in my whole life. I can tell you that this is a hell of a life-altering experience." 

Steve nodded and kicked off his shoes, then he put his feet on the coffee table and said, "Yeah, man.I know that it is a life-altering experience, but did it do something to your brain as well?" 

Danny stared at Steve's feet. "Wait, wait, wait. What do you think you are doing here? You can't put your feet on my coffee table." 

Steve shrugged. "Last time I was here you did the same." 

"Yes, I know. And I can do it because it is MY coffee table," Danny snapped. 

"But I was the one who helped you carry it home. On another note, you are a lousy host. You haven't offered me another beer." 

Danny jumped to his feet and glared daggers at Steve. "I haven't offered you… I haven't offered you… Who the hell you think I am, your humble servant? If you want another fucking beer, move your ass and help yourself. I am the one here who got shot." Then he swept Steve's feet off the coffee table. 

Steve had to bite back a grin. He was thankful for the little banter. After one of the worst days in his life, Danny Williams's company felt like a breath of fresh air. So he got up and crossed over to the kitchen to fetch two more bottles of beer from the fridge. 

Danny took the blanket from the couch and folded it neatly while he watched Steve vanishing around the corner. He'd elicited this little banter on purpose because he knew exactly what buttons to push to stir his best friend from his gloomy thoughts. 

But when Steve returned with the drinks, the stoic look was back on his face. Danny's plan hadn't worked out the way he thought it would. And when Steve put the bottle into his hand, Danny knew why. Steve must've seen the pic of Gracie that he'd pinned on the fridge. It had been a Christmas present from his daughter. The picture showed her on her first day of school and had reminded Steve of the dead little girl for sure. 

Having to deal with fatalities was never easy. However, dealing with the death of a child was a whole different animal. And the fact that the person who was behind all the lunacy that had gone down today was still out there and already planning his or her next move weighed heavy on the shoulders of the entire team but especially on Steve. Since H50 had taken over, all eyes were on him because he was the leader of this task force. He was the one who called the shots. Adrenaline and expectations were running high. The Governor demanded results. 

"Can you imagine these bastards had the balls to storm the detention facility?" Steve said after he'd returned to the couch and taken a seat. 

Danny shook his head. "Steven, listen. This is not on you." 

"No? I was the one who came up with this brilliant idea. I served them the crime bosses' heads on a silver platter. All they had to do was waltz in and kill them. They had absolutely no chance to escape." Steve leaned back and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. 

"Again, this is not on you," Danny repeated. "This was a well-orchestrated maneuver from someone who must've also had some intel. The FBI agent and his family were collateral damage. I hate to sound like Jerry, but it could easily be that someone from the bureau is involved. They played you… us." 

Danny threw a worried glance at Steve and stretched his hand out, palm up. 

"Babe, you look like hell. C'mon, gimme your car keys," he said. 

Steve gave him a puzzled look in return. "What the hell?" 

"Gimme your fucking keys. You're not going anywhere tonight. Take a shower and get some rest." 

"But, why is it that you need my keys?" Steve asked. 

"You have the guts to ask me why?" Danny snapped. "Last time you promised me you'd stay overnight, you did the Houdini after I fell asleep and what happened? On your way to only God knows where, YOU fell asleep behind the wheel, the car spun out of control, and you almost ended up in a ditch. Now, stop giving me your aneurysm face and hand me the damned keys." 

"Seriously?" Steven asked. 

"Seriously." 

Steve rolled his eyes but was already fumbling for the keys. When he dropped them into Danny's hand, he muttered, "Geez, you can be a demanding son of a bitch." 

"I love you too," Danny deadpanned, and gave him a satisfied grin in return. 

On his way to the bathroom, Steve stopped short and turned on his heel, "And, what exactly are you doing with my keys?" 

"I put them somewhere safe. And, no, I won't tell you where that is and, no, it is not the cookie jar, are we clear?" 

Steve dismissed him, "Whatever, as long as you are not throwing them out of the window." 

When the bathroom door shut, Danny let out a sigh of relief and closed his eyes briefly. Thank God, he could've made him stay the night. Once more, Danny threw a sorrowful glance at the vest and the service gun that lay abandoned on the kitchen counter. He knew he should've been there. He should've been fighting, side by side, with his teammates. Unfortunately, his body betrayed him. In his condition, he'd probably endangered everyone else. "Fuck it," he huffed out, wiping the tears, which started to fall, with the back of his hand. 

Later in bed, Danny lay on his back, his hands clasped behind his head, staring at the ceiling. The harder he tried to sleep, the more wide awake he became. Awesome! 

Steve stirred. 

"Danny, are you sleeping? Because it's like I can hear you thinking," he drawled in his drowsy voice. 

"Babe, you read me like an open book, even in your dreams," Danny mused. 

Steve turned around and started fidgeting with his blanket. 

"And, what do you think you're doing?" Danny asked, curiously watching his best friend's action. 

He did not get a reply until Steve was lying pretty close to him and rested his head on his chest carefully, anxious not to hurt him in any way. In the moonlit room, Danny's white bandage stood out like a beacon. 

Danny's heartbeat accelerated. 

"Your heart sounds like a jackhammer," Steve mumbled, and then added, "Danno?" 

"Yes, Steven?" 

"Love you, buddy." 

Danny gently stroked over Steve's closed-cropped hair. "Love you too you stupid little oaf and now go back to sleep." 

A smile curled his lips as he remembered the day in the quarantine ward when Steve had cut his hair in a fit of desperation or had it been boredom? And he remembered the laughter of Tani and Junior when he'd called his partner "Ghetto-Vin-Diesel." Danny's bullet wound started throbbing, and his smile faltered. This had also been the day he'd been shot and almost lost his life on the operating table. 

He still wasn't over it. Sometimes, he woke in the middle of the night, and then panic rose in his chest and threatened to suffocate him. A blanket of darkness was creeping up on the edges of his mind. It always took him a while to get rid of this unpleasant feeling. In those nights he wished he wasn't alone, would have Steve at his side who would give him some comfort for sure. 

However, tonight, the roles seemed to be reversed, and it didn't take long until Danny heard Steve snoring softly.


End file.
